The Funeral
by Saratail
Summary: A rather odd funeral takes place...


**A/N: Just a little random story about Voldemort's funeral. I hope you all like it! **

The Funeral

Sighs.

Sniffles.

Sobs.

These are the sounds that would be expected to be heard at a funeral. Especially a funeral as large as this. Any passerby would stop and wonder why a funeral house was so brightly colored and decorated. It must be a very bizarre funeral, one would think to themselves as they would pass by, going temporarily deaf as music blasted from inside the house.

In fact, no one would actually be able to tell that this _was_ a funeral. Instead of dark, depressing robes of black, hordes of people could be seen wearing brightly colored robes, singing happily in the streets. Children ran across the lawn outside the large house, wearing party hats and masks that resembled someone who used to be known as the Dark Lord, Voldemort.

Any outsider would never understand such festive behavior. Brightly colored balloons dotted the horizon, followed by showers of bright sparks that littered the night sky in violent shades of magenta and turquoise lights. If one went inside the brilliantly decorated funeral house, one would see in the place of where a coffin would usually be lay a humongous trash can, filled with the vilest, foulest, most horrible things that has ever existed.

If one would look closer, one would see an even more unusual thing. There, lying on top of what appeared to be a moldy dunghill, was a body. Instead of dressed up in a fancy suit or robes, it was dressed in a ludicrous clown suit, complete with a bright red nose. The nose piece did not seem to have anything to hold onto. Of course, everyone knew Voldemort did not possess a nose; instead, two slits for nostrils in the middle of his face. His normally pale, bald head was sporting a bright orange wig which slightly resembled an afro.

If one listened more carefully, through all the cheering and singing, one could hear a speech being made about the man who lay atop of the smelly dunghill.

"Voldemort," the man began, followed by a hysterical laugh, "was a terrible, terrible man." Cries of approval followed his statement. The man seemed to be encouraged, and continued, booming his voice through the crowds. "He is the reason we have all been hiding in fear for the past few years, living in terror as he roamed around the streets of the Wizarding World, doing as he pleased. But no more, I tell you! NO MORE! HE IS DEAD! HE IS-"

The man was interrupted when another man pushed him off of the podium from where he was talking.

"I would like to say a few words," he announced, holding up a wine glass filled to the brim with a brightly colored liquid that spat out large bubbles.

He paused, taking in a deep breath before bellowing out a sentence which absolutely made no sense whatsoever, and then stepped off of the podium to do a small dance around the dunghill. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing to watch briefly in amusement as the man tripped over his feet and landed face first into a small pile of rotting banana peels. Surprisingly, the man still managed to carry out a song about world peace, his voice muffled from all the banana peels his face was currently stuffed in.

Clearly, the man was either drunk or quite mad. It seemed that people thought the latter, for two men dressed in white coats burst out of nowhere and hauled him out of the scene before strapping him into a straitjacket. His exit was followed by a loud applause and more whistling and cheering.

The other man who was previously speaking got up from where he was pushed to, his glasses slightly askew. He stepped onto the podium once more, his voice droning on as he continued his speech from exactly where he left off, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened to him. The night came to an end when the people who were listening to the young man's speech dozed off. The hall was filled with a thundering roar of snores, sending flocks of birds scattering across the skies for safety, during in which many wizards and witches were showered in bird poop that rained from the sky.

And that was the great funeral of Lord Voldemort.

**A/N: Well, what do you think? Please leave me a review :) and maybe tell me your guesses about who the two men who were speaking are. **


End file.
